


fix you

by wollfgang



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fics [18]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, mechanical trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 19:17:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/pseuds/wollfgang
Summary: Lucifer had shed his waistcoat and rolled his sleeves up, undoing buttons at his throat as the heat increased. He doesn’t understand. He’d bought the parts, he’d read the manual, he even looked up the Youtube videos. He wipes at his forehead, unknowingly smearing grease across his brow, his fingers blackened and smudged. So what is he doing wrong?“I don’t know why you don’t just take it to a mechanic,” Maze grouses from where she sits in the driver's seat, her booted feet hanging off the door, stiletto heels alarmingly pointed.“And have those charlatans swindle me out of my money for brake pads that I don’t need? I think not,” Lucifer retorts, offended. “Try it now.”





	fix you

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Prompt 63. “Maybe I can’t fix you but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

Lucifer had shed his waistcoat and rolled his sleeves up, undoing buttons at his throat as the heat increased. He doesn’t understand. He’d bought the parts, he’d read the manual, he even looked up the Youtube videos. He wipes at his forehead, unknowingly smearing grease across his brow, his fingers blackened and smudged. So what is he doing wrong?

“I don’t know why you don’t just take it to a mechanic,” Maze grouses from where she sits in the driver's seat, her booted feet hanging off the door, stiletto heels alarmingly pointed.

“And have those charlatans swindle me out of my money for brake pads that I don’t need? I think not,” Lucifer retorts, offended. “Try it now.” 

Maze rolls her eyes, but pulls her limbs back inside the car and attempts to start the engine. It clicks and sputters. She tries again, but no dice. Lucifer runs a hand through his hair, curly and untamed, and sighs. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” Maze announces, leaving Lucifer to his own devices. 

“Ungrateful wench,” he mutters as he leans into the guts of his beloved Corvette, talking about both the car and the demon. “I was there when the combustion engine was invented, I should be able to figure this out.”

*

Chloe walks around inside the empty club, checking her phone again to see if Lucifer had responded to her message. She’d already gone through the penthouse. It was empty, but filled with evidence of Lucifer’s presence. He’s still here, just not...here. That’s when she hears the distinct sound of Maze’s heels. The woman herself comes around a back corner and stops at the sight of Chloe. 

“Hey, have you seen Lucifer?” she asks. 

Maze huffs. “Nice to see you, too, Decker. Sure, he’s around back. I’ll show you. Maybe you can help him, I’m going to head out.”

Chloe’s brow furrows. “Oh, okay. What’s he need help with?” 

Maze simply raises an eyebrow and holds open a swinging door. Chloe can hear something clang in the distance. “You’ll see,” Maze answers unhelpfully. Now it’s Chloe’s turn to huff, but she steps forward and past the door. 

Lucifer is fairly easy to find now, standing in front of his car, letting out a colorful string of swears. He leans under the hood and Chloe watches the sight of Lucifer’s too tight suit pants bend over the front of his Corvette with amusement and appreciation.

“Maybe I can’t fix you but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try,” he tells the machine. There’s something almost sweet about it, something human. Men and their cars. 

“What seems to be the problem?” Chloe asks, causing Lucifer to jolt upright and nearly hit his head on the metal car hood.

He turns to look at her and her mouth goes a little dry and oh. He’s a little dirty, a little sweaty, in all the right ways. His hair is loose and curly, one falling onto his forehead. He pushes it back, the cuffs of his sleeves rolled up to reveal toned arms. 

“Detective!” he says, pleased to see her, if a little embarrassed. “What brings you here?”

“I was just dropping by to pick up some old files.” She steps closer, looking at the complicated innards of his vehicle. “What’s wrong with your car?” she prompts again.

He blows out a breath.“I thought it was the ignition coils, but now I’m thinking it’s the merely the spark plugs. I bought replacements.” He frowns thoughtfully. 

Chloe drags her eyes from the engine, up his body, to his face. He’s distracted enough by his task at hand to notice her perusal. “Could be, yeah.” she confirms. “What’s it sound like when you start it?” 

Lucifer thinks for a moment and then tips his head back to make a clicky, gargling sound. 

Chloe laughs at the unexpected mimicry. “How about I just try and start it?”

“If you insist.” He bows gracefully out of her way.

She settles in to the soft leather seat and tries the ignition. It clicks and tries to start and fades out in a sound remarkably similar to what had come out of Lucifer’s throat. “Hm. Has it got gas?”

“Filled it up yesterday,” he replies, settling distractingly against the side of the car, arms folded. She gets out and comes around to look at the mechanics, Lucifer trailing after her.

“I would say you’re right about it being the spark.” She blows a strand of hair out of her face. “Where are the spark plugs?” He fetches the package in question.

They end up replacing the parts together under the Californian sun and when the Corvette starts up with throaty purr they both cheer in victory. Chloe turns it back off and exits the car.

“I didn’t know you were so mechanically inclined, Detective,” Lucifer says, eyes bright.

“Only with the littler stuff. I used to go out and help my dad in the garage all the time when I was small.” She smiles a bit melancholy. It’s a good memory, less touched by sadness than some.

“Well, I’m grateful for your help,” he says and he’s suddenly much closer. “How ever shall I repay you?” And it’s deliberately alluring, the way he lets his head angle down towards her. 

Normally, Chloe would brush it off, say that’s just what friends do, but he looks so delicious, standing there like he’s walked off a magazine, despite the sweat at the hollow of his throat, the griminess of his hands. He’s teasing her and she’s feeling bold and triumphant.

“A kiss,” she states, surprising him. “That’s my fee.”

“Allow me to pay it,” he murmurs and brings his lips to hers. She reaches for him, crinkling greasy fingers in his shirt. His thumb brushes her cheek, leaving behind a smear of black. He bites at her lip as he pulls away and she chases him, hand braced on his side, on her tiptoes. 

Eventually his height separates them, but his eyes are dark. He laughs at the soiled fingerprints they’ve left on each other. “Shower?” he suggests and she grins.


End file.
